Christmas Eve Midnight Mass … Jam!

[This entry is part of a series. One may wish to start at the beginning.]

Karaoke massFor the first time since arriving in England we took it easy today. No shopping, no site-seeing. Mostly we hung out drinking tea, talking, watching Christmas-related shows on the telly, and occasionally slipping away to wrap holiday gifts. A nice, lazy, Christmas Eve.

In the late afternoon Jenny surprised us with another scrumptious meal. Sarah had told Jenny how her favourite meat was lamb and so there it was. Jenny is amazing!

After supper Sarah and I watched our traditional holiday film, About a Boy. Not exactly a Christmas film, but with some elements that we think display Christmas spirit. David joined us and seemed to enjoy our silly little tradition. Once the film had ended, Jenny, David, Sarah and I played Upwords. It was the first time I had played, and while it seems familiar to Scrabble fans like me, it is a game that requires a different way of thinking. Jenny and David competed with each other while politely watching while Sarah and I struggled. It was still good fun to relax and play a good board game.

While we were playing games, Chris was off practicing for the night’s gig… playing organ at midnight mass at St. Mary’s Church in Walthstow. He came back after rehearsal to pick up Sarah and I so we could join him for the jam.

Read more

But, Virginia, they didn’t give you quite enough information …

I was raised Catholic. And honestly, I have no complaints about my religious up-bringing. I fondly recall listening to Bob Dylan songs sung by long-haired hippies at “folk” Masses held in the local middle school’s gymnasium while our local Parish was being built. My mother deciding we should attend the gym Masses rather than continuing to attend St. Patrick’s for the three years it would eventually take to complete our new church. Besides, she wanted to get to meet the other families and, being a kind-hearted generous woman, she also wanted to help however she could. So I became an altar boy, attended CCD, and played CYO basketball while she helped with white elephants and bake sales.

I even liked the chain-smoking Parish priest, Father Stack, who would have his pre-Mass cigarette outside the church wearing his leather bomber jacket over his black cassock. Father Stack was an avid Redskins fan who would occasionally skip Sunday’s homily so he wouldn’t miss the kick-off. I recall one time, when the Redskins were in the play-offs, where he skipped the homily and there was a soft, but audible, cheer from the men in the pews. Immediately followed by choruses of shushes by wives and mothers. The only “abuse” Father Stack ever bestowed upon me was an occasional play-slap to the back of my head when he would find me kneeling in prayer in a back pew. He always followed up his slaps by saying things like “you look so holy when you’re praying, Ricky-babe” in a voice I now hear in my head as though he sounded like Humphrey Bogart.

I eventually made the decision to leave the Catholic church. (I guess more accurately I stopped paying dues and attending meetings. It’s not like I sent a letter to the the CEO and turned in my rosary.) But not because of any abuse. The church and I had simply grown apart and didn’t see eye-to-eye anymore.

However, despite my fond recollections of Father Stack, there are still many things about the crimes being committed by Catholic priests against children that disturb me. And I am angry by the blame being assigned homosexuals as the church continues to point fingers at everyone but themselves.

One last thing has me confused: Why is this being discussed as though it is an American problem? Why were the U.S. cardinals called to Rome to discuss “the problems in the church in the United States in the wake of scandals connected with pedophilia?” Why the emphasis on American priests? Is there more of a problem in the United States? Or it because there is more media attention provided to the issue here?

Related: